Thursday, April 22, 2010

WARNING - THIS IS A RANT. I APOLOGIZE TO THOSE OF YOU WHO WOULD RATHER NOT SEE THIS.

As I stated in the title, it was a lovely day. A perfect day. It started out with black skies which opened up and released, at various times throughout the entire day, snow, sleet, and hail. Fog rolled in and covered the surrounding mountains. The wind kicked up, but not to any damaging speeds. My kind of day, and a perfect day to sit and knit... which is exactly what I did, interspersed with periods of dozing. As I sit here and write this at 4:00 a.m., it's still snowing hard. There is well over a foot of snow covering the decks and everything on them.

It was a perfect day... but the night abruptly screeched to a halt when I decided to try and find my blog on my iPhone. I decided to use the Google app and looked up "Yarn Goddess". I found my blog just fine - and a lot of other things. The thing which floored me was an entry on a site called "RipOff Report". There, in living color, was my name, Hubster's name, my Ravelry name, my town and state, Yarny Goodness, Liar, Thief, and I can't remember what else. I had Hubster bring up the site on my computer. This is what he found:

"I am one of many who've been ripped off by this woman and her husband. Pamela contacted us all soliciting entry into her shop. She took thousands of dollars in merchandise with signed contracts, sold some of it, kept the rest and is not returning money, merchandise or email. She is not following the terms of her own contract. She and her husband respond to increasingly annoyed and frustrated emails with childish insults, empty threats and little, if any, action. Some of us have been trying to get our things back/money we're owed for a year now. They simply don't care.

Pam likes to play up her illness and her 'quirks' but several people who've had real life dealings with her have told stories of con games and lies that end with temper tantrums and petty revenge when discovered. Currently she seems to be engaged in smoking a lot of dope and giving tarot readings over the phone.

Steer clear of this woman if you value your business or finances! She and her husband both are shysters and have no remorse whatsoever about putting very small, women owned businesses out of business and ripping off fellow fiber enthusiasts."

It was written and submitted by "Disgruntled Artist (Nationwide).

If you wish to see the site and what the entry looks like, you can find it at:

I have never held anything back on this blog, and I won't do so now. Trying to hide and hoping that nobody will see this is ridiculous. I've never been one to cower in corners and not put myself in the middle of things. Those of you who know me also know these things to be true. So, in the true spirit of who I am and what I believe in, I have copied and pasted this "anonymous" author's work on my blog for all of you to see.

I'm always amazed when people attack me but won't sign their names to the post. I have a really good idea of who this person is by the way she wrote the post and the language she used, but I'm not going to name names. Since you obviously read this blog, why don't you tell us all who you are? Or don't you want the spotlight falling on you? Fucking coward.

We're filing a rebuttal (just so you know, lady), but I'm also going to address her accusations here. Again, if those of my regular readers dislike rants, I thank you for reading this far and suggest that you might want to stop reading here. For the rest of you, here we go.

This bitch doesn't have the slightest idea of whom I've paid and what merchandise I've returned. Has she asked every single one of my artists who has been happy with the shop and/or me? No. She doesn't even have any idea of what merchandise I had, especially at Sock Summit. No... she seems to have talked to only one or a few people, disregarding what the others have to say. Do I still have merchandise? Yes. Do I still owe money? Yes. I send back what I can when I can and pay people as I can afford it. So far, we've spent about $500 in postage alone, not to mention the items I've had to purchase because I can't find them, as well as paying people for their sales. Those people who wrote to me and said they had shows to go to got their merchandise back first. Those people who sent rude and nasty letters are getting their work back as well, although not by Priority Mail. It will all get done.

I do not issue childish insults or threats, and nobody knows what kind of action I've taken. I'm assuming she means sending items back. She has no idea of what other action I've taken, and I don't care to enlighten her. If you read some of the letters I received, it would curl your hair. If she wants to see what a childish insult looks like or hear what a threat sounds like (such as contacting the DA, police department, BBB, etc.), I've got plenty of those letters, too. She also has no idea if I care or not. It seems to me that if I didn't care about indie artists, I would never have opened the store in the first place. A lot of people whined about wanting such a thing but not doing anything to make it a reality. That's what I get for actually doing something to help people. Do I still care? Yes, I do. I don't give a rat's ass if she believes me or not. My life won't be impacted one bit by what she thinks.

I like to play up my illness and "quirks"? What quirks? Just so you know, you stinking bitch, I don't have an illness. I have a disease. Get it right if you're going to write about it. As for smoking a lot of dope and giving tarot readings over the phone, I still have the dope I originally purchased. I smoke it when I absolutely have to. I haven't given a tarot reading over the phone (or in person) for months. And I don't play up anything. I simply tell people what's going on with my life so they don't have to write me letters. Believe it or not, people do write me for the fun of communicating with me, not just to harangue me.

Con games? Lies? Petty revenge? Temper tantrums? What a load of horseshit. Just for your information, Hubster writes most of those letters because I'm too angry to write anything civilized. He's extremely professional and spells it out as it is - but without the swearing I would most likely put in letters. If I wait a while and cool off, then I write them. Even after I've told people to stop writing, they continue to bombard me with letters up the ass. That is precisely why I shut off my Ravelry mail. I got tired of receiving letters at every single email address I own.

The other thing which really pissed me off is that this useless piece of humanity put my home address on whatever form she filled out. I realize my address is easy to get ahold of, but that was just plain mean. Do you want any other information to put on there? My SSN? My measurements? My birthday? (Oh wait... that's on another blog entry.) The size of Hubster's dick? (I think I've mentioned that, too, and for those of you who do want that information, you have my email addy.) Just let me know, and after I have a temper tantrum and smoke a bowl, I'll lie to you about it.

I think that about covers it. Be sure you all steer clear of me, especially if you have a business. Make sure that you hide your checkbooks before you write - I might see them with my special glasses which I bought from the back of a comic book. God forbid that I con you into joining forces with me in some new business venture. I'd say that I'm sorry I ever opened the shop to begin with (and I have said it when I'm really upset), but at the end of the day, I did some good things for a lot of people and gave them exposure they might not have gotten otherwise. For that, I'm proud. I'm not proud of how things ended up, and I know I could have done things better and faster. But for whatever reasons, I didn't, so I'm trying to make it right now. As I said, it's a slow process, but it'll get done.

How I wish the Pony Express was still in operation...

(I just realized something. If you go to that site and look at the bottom of the post, there's a link you can click to see any other reports which have been filed on me. There is one additional one which was posted about two hours after the first one (if I have the times/days right). I won't copy it and waste your time here - go on over and read it if you're interested.)

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Don't get me wrong. I love winter. In fact, it's my favorite season by far, followed by autumn, spring, and summer. So imagine my delight yesterday when I was sitting in the old chair knitting and looked out the window to see ...

SNOW.

Lots of snow. Big, fat, fluffy flakes of it. Then it hailed - lots and lots of little round ice balls (I've known some dudes who have ice balls, too, but that's for another post). Then it snowed again, this time with the wind blowing and making the flakes dance and twirl like they were in a ballet. Then it warmed up from around 34 degrees to 38, and the snow turned to sleet. This went on for most of the day, finally ending with another huge dose of hail. Today is sunny and cool, but the sunshine is rapidly melting the hail which coated the ground. Ah well. It was a lovely treat, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Hubster, on the other hand, is hoping that spring will hurry up and stay so he doesn't have to shovel the driveway again. I can see his point of view, especially since I'm not the one who has to do the shoveling, but I'm a selfish bitch. I can't stand the heat, so the thought of it returning makes me want to barf. I am definitely NOT a SoCal broad. They seem to worship the sun down here.

Hubster has been working on a huge project for work, so I haven't been seeing him a lot these days. Hopefully, he'll wrap it up today and things will return to a semblance of normalcy. The upshot of this is that I'm getting a LOT of knitting done, with a test knitting project about ready to hit the needles. I was fortunate enough to be asked to do a sample for Unique Sheep's Ram Club (I don't know if I can tell you about it or not, so I'll err on the side of safety and keep my big mouth shut), but suffice it to say that it's not socks. I've also decided to do something else that's crazy and may never get done, but I'm going to give it a shot.

I'm writing a book.

Yep, I'm going to try and get this thing finished before I'm finished. If nothing else, it will give my grands something to tell them all about their grandma. Racy? Yes. Full of foul language? Yes. But it's an autobiography, and that's who I am. Even if I have to self-publish two copies for them, it will be worth it. I don't know that I want my mother reading it - some of the things I've done are still unknown to her - but even at her age, she can take it. I just feel this need and urgency to do it, and Hubster has been telling me for years that I should do it. I told him it will have to be classified as fiction, since nobody will believe half the shit in there. Now I'm on a mission to get an iPad so I can sit on the ratty old chair and write with it in my lap. Hmm ... maybe he'll get a bonus for doing this project at work. I love spending money that I don't have.

I got two phone calls about the bike, and one of them looks promising. The dude is supposed to call today, so I'm really hoping that he'll follow through with it. He even has a trailer, so he can pick the beast up and trailer it home instead of riding something with outdated tags. We didn't bother to register it because it isn't being ridden (I'm supposed to let the DMV know about that situation and pay a non-registration fee, which strikes me as stupid for something that's just sitting in the garage), but if this dude buys it, we'll take care of all that. It would be lovely to have the extra money every month. I just wish we could keep the money from the sale - that's a down payment for a house, if we ever get our credit fixed - but, alas, we have to pay it off. Shitty loan.

The sausage has been acting more and more like a human lately. She sits on her ass with her front legs draped over the back of the couch and her back legs sticking straight out; she lays under the quilt with Hubster and snores almost as loudly as him; I have to share a bite from dinner (with her eating off a fork); and any other number of hilarious things. She guards me like I'm going to be attacked at any moment and uses Hubster as her personal toy. I'm so glad we got her; she's a tremendous source of love and amusement. I wish they lived longer, but they don't. That just means we'll have to enjoy her lifetime to the fullest.

I have a bunch of pictures on my phone, but I haven't downloaded them onto the computer yet. I'll have them for next time. Aren't you proud of me, though? Its been a week instead of a month since I blogged. Maybe I'll get back into my old habits and blog even more frequently than that. The problem is that I don't have a lot to tell you. I'm in the house most of the time, so I don't have any funny stories about my adventures outside. However, we have to hit a quilting shop later this week, so maybe I can stir up some shit. We also have to find a knitting shop. There are some good ones in San Diego, so I'm going to try and talk the old man into going there. Then we can grab sandwiches and eat on the beach. I just have to remember to not smoke there. God forbid that my smoke competes with the smog.

Tomorrow is Hubster's day for doing our taxes, so keep your fingers crossed that we don't owe any money. Nothing puts him in a worse mood than doing taxes, except for doing taxes and finding out that we owe. We have to get a house; that way, we're assured of getting money back. Besides, I want to go swimming in my own backyard again.

Speaking of swimming, my swim with the dolphins is coming up. I'm hoping to do it next month instead of June when all the screaming monsters ... uh ... lovely little children are out of school and running around like Attila the Hun's hordes. I have to wear a wet suit, which has the benefit of smoothing out all your bumps and bulges due to their snugness. I can groove on that. Hubster will be taking a lot of pictures, so you can all giggle like fiends at seeing me in the water with a bunch of dolphins sailing over my head.

And with that, I'm bringing this entry to a close. Forgive me for the boring content. I feel like a mother with small children who never goes anywhere and has nothing interesting to say. I'm going to finish up the cuff on the new socks I cast on this morning (I'm using a yarn by Selah, which I can't even remember buying, in a rainbow colorway), and then I'm taking a nap. I'm half asleep now, but I really want to get this thing going before the yarn for my test knit arrives. Once the club members have received it, I'll post a picture of it. Until then, I'll have to keep it a secret.

Monday, April 5, 2010

So the Hubster and I were sitting there yesterday afternoon around 3:30 p.m. when I noticed that my ass was beginning to quiver. Mind you, it doesn't take a whole lot to get any part of my body quivering, but this was weird - like I was sitting on a whoopie cushion gone wild. Then I heard it - that familiar low rumbling which I haven't heard in quite a while. I looked at Hubster and said, "earthquake". He looked at me like I was nuts... and then the entire house let out a huge creaking noise and began to shake.

It was slow at first, but then it picked up speed and intensity. He sat there with big eyes while I continued knitting. Emma didn't much care for it - it was something new and she couldn't control it. The house snapped, creaked, and shook HARD for about 30 seconds or so, and then it was over... but not until we heard a loud crashing sound from upstairs. "Oh shit", said the ever-diligent Hubster, who immediately ran upstairs to see what had fallen. I continued to sit in my chair knitting. It turned out that a porcelain pig chef holding a covered platter which was meant to hold votive candles (don't ask) had fallen off the baker's rack and smashed to a million pieces on the floor. Shit. I can't get those anymore (there's an entire kingdom, as it were, of this particular artist's work, and she doesn't make them anymore). My huge Shiva Lingham (it's a torpedo-shaped stone - mine is mahogany-colored with lighter brown splotches on the top - which is harvested once a year on the banks of the Ganges River by families specially trained to do it) had also toppled over and rolled across the front room floor. Fortunately, it weighs about 25 lbs. and didn't get damaged. They're meant to bring harmony and happiness to whichever area they're placed, and they come in all sizes from very small to the size of a torpedo (literally). I bought it when I owned the metaphysical store and got it wholesale; otherwise, I couldn't have afforded one that size. Anyway, that's all the damage we noticed, but aftershocks continued on and off during the rest of the day. The epicenter of the quake was around Calexico, and the magnitude was 7.2. We felt it at about 5.2, and we're pretty far away. We're on the fault, though, and it travels straight up.

This morning, I woke up around 6 a.m. to the sound of dripping. It had been raining all night, which I didn't notice because I fell asleep fairly early (for me), and the TV tends to mask the sound of rain unless it's coming down hard. Right now, at 10 a.m., it's raining/snowing pretty hard, the wind is blowing, and we're in the middle of a cloud (we're so high up that we don't really get fog, we get clouds). It promises to be like this all day. Happy Pam. :)

What else? That chick who wanted my bike so badly pulled out of the deal. Her boyfriend bought her one (yeah, right). Hubster sent her a letter thanking her for leading us on for three weeks. Oh well.

We're also making good progress on yarn/stitch makers/other assorted items which we still have left from that long-ago show we attended. Yes, it's been forever. Yes, I owe people a lot of stuff. I'm working on it, and we're also working on making payments to those folks to whom we owe money. Sigh. I really did try with that fucking store, and I still don't understand why it didn't take off. I noticed that a couple of stores which have the same concept I did are popping up. I guess I was ahead of my time, which is nothing new.

I finished the cuff on a new sock and have begun the leg portion. It's fairly simple, just an offset ribbing, but it's all knit into the backs of the stitches. That means I have to loosen up a little so I can actually knit it. I'm using a gorgeous yarn by... uh... somebody; the color is called "Mums". It's got purple, green, yellow, and a couple of others in it, and the way it's knitting up bodes well for a non-pooling sock. I've also got five others on the needles, and I switch off when I get bored. The other day, a needle case I ordered for the 9" Hiya Hiya circs arrived, so now I have them all organized instead of having a hundred packages laying around getting lost. I also found 50 sterling silver stitch markers I had purchased a year ago to sell in the shop, but nobody bought them (I think it was the price, although I thought it was reasonable), so I'm keeping those and have them all in a little silk pouch. I love those things - they don't leave ladders in your work.

While rummaging through my studio last night, I found a shitload of stuff I forgot I had, so I'm well-equipped to knit pretty much whatever I want. Between the stuff that was in the shop and paid for ahead of time, and the lovely things that many of the artists gave me, I don't need to buy another thing. I'm still selling the "old" stash (if we ever finish taking those damn pictures) and some odds and ends (including most of my Green Mountain knitting bags, since I now have the rolling Zuca cart), but all the new stuff (and the found stuff), I'm keeping. It was like Christmas, until my back went out from stooping over and looking in boxes.

I had a doctor's appointment the other day, and the news wasn't great. Apparently, the cartilage in my left knee is gone, so when I move that joint, I feel bone on bone and hear it snap and creak. The other new and fun thing is that bits and pieces of my spine are breaking loose and floating up into my neck on their way to my brain. The doctor told me that if too many pieces break off, or if the cartilage deteriorates up to my neck, it's time. The next stop is my brain and, as I've said, once it hits that, I better start saying good-bye to everybody. Fast. Do you remember that bitch who wrote me that horrible letter a few weeks ago about being hated because I was a lying, stealing bitch? Well, she had also told me I was a "poor me" sort of attention-getter, and that I had a cult of followers who believed everything I told them. I hate to say this, but I think she meant anybody who even remotely likes me, which would mean those of you who actually read this silly thing. I know who got her started on this rant (it's somebody whose stuff I had/have), and I'm going to have a polite word (or series of not so polite words) with her when the time is right, but if she knew me, she'd know I was honest to a fault. I think the broad needs a high hard one, although I suspect her bearded taco has moths flying out of it, which is a turnoff for any electric eels seeking shelter from the cold.

That's about it. It's been an exciting weekend, what with the earthquake and all, but now I'm getting sleepy from my morning pills and think I'll probably sleep for a while. I don't want to miss the rain - the rainy season seems to be pretty much finished down here as opposed to NoCal, where it lasts for another month - and I would be surprised if there were any more days filled with rain and darkness. Since I'm a witch, it's natural that I would love this weather.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

I can't believe it, but today is the sausage's birthday. And that's not an April Fool's joke - we've really had her almost that long. We're buying her some sort of gift tomorrow night. I did have a doctor's appointment today, but it's snowing off and on, and I don't want to get stuck on the mountain roads if it decides to snow hard. So I'm lounging around in my ratty old jammies, knitting away on whichever pair of socks strikes my fancy.

The big news this past week has been Amber. As you all know, she left her husband and was living with some meth head. Well, she kicked him out and tried to come back to her hubby. Fortunately, he was aware of her proclivities towards lying and only doing what benefitted her, so he turned her away and wrote her a rather nasty letter, going so far as to call her a lying whore. He had a long conversation with Hubster, and I think that helped him realize that his decision was the right one. So what did the kid do? She moved the meth head back into her apartment and told her soon to be ex that since Hubster and I had chosen his family over her, she didn't want anything more to do with us, that she was doing just fine without us, blah blah blah. It's nothing she hasn't said before, so my feelings aren't really hurt. In fact, I'm not really hurt by anything she says or does anymore. I think it's a protection mechanism on my part. I had to do that in order to save my sanity. Otherwise, I tended to dwell on it and cry a lot. I've got enough going on in my life that's hurtful or painful, let alone having her add to my problems. I think she figured we'd come crawling to her. Since it hasn't happened, maybe she's finally realizing that nobody really gives a shit about what she's doing. It seems that she can't live alone, so she moves in whoever shows any interest in her. Of course, the kids are well aware that different guys are coming and going, and it's beginning to traumatize them. I'm really worried about them, and if Mom gets permanent custody, she's informed us that we'll be getting them soon because she's getting too old to raise them. That's great, except we've got that little health issue of mine. If we're able to qualify for a new house (more on that below), it's got to be a large house to accommodate them. Oh well - things will work out the way they're meant to.

As far as the kids go, Mom goes to court in July for the final hearing on custody. With Amber living with that creep, I don't think it's going to be a problem to take the kids away from her. We also found out that she was definitely pregnant and had an abortion - the ex took her to get the pills for it. That's going to hurt her standing with the court. It makes me really upset to think about the kids around that guy, so I'm hoping the court sees things our way. Mom has spent about $23K so far fighting this battle, and we can't help her monetarily. All we can do is stand by and wait to see what happens.

We did have a bit of bad news. As I said in my last post, we were trying to qualify for a house loan. Well ... we didn't get it. I wasn't surprised, since our credit report isn't up to date, and there's a lot of shit on there that's long been paid off. Now we get to go through the agony of trying to update the fucking thing. Our mortgage guy is really difficult to get ahold of, so I don't know when we're going to start the process. Fortunately, we love the house we're in right now, and I don't think our landlord is going to kick us out. There are worse places to be stuck, so we feel fortunate that we're here. It's just so difficult to save money, especially with Hubster's salary cut, but I suppose I should be grateful that he's even got a job. What pisses me off is that there are programs for people who are about to lose their houses and people who are first-time buyers, but nothing for people in our position. Once again, the middle class gets shit on. We make too much money to get help from any agencies and not enough to be rich. Oh well. At least we're not on skid row living in a refrigerator box on the sidewalk.

The hate mail continues to flow in, so I've taken to making Hubster read my email. Some of it I can deal with; some of it I just can't. The piles of shit I've got in my studio are slowly but surely disappearing, but it's the stitch markers I just can't figure out. Most people didn't mark them in any way, so I have no idea what belongs to whom. I just don't want to send the wrong things to the wrong people. That would be a nightmare. Then I'd have to have things going back and forth until I found their owners. Sigh.

That's really about it. Nothing exciting has come in the mail, my socks are making progress (but not enough to take any pictures), the sausage has stopped limping and has taken to barking all day because Hubster isn't paying her constant attention, and I'm exhausted. I think I'll go knit, take a nap, and then go rummage around in my studio. Maybe I'll have good luck and find things.